To Watch You Bleed

by Jordon Greene

  “See, you got it. Well, I’m going to leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything,” Jenna said as she swiveled on her high heels and made her way out of his office, but not before Dalton stole a glance at her fine specimen of a buttocks behind her form fitting white skirt. Nice and curvy. Not too much, but just enough for a good grasp.

  With a satisfied grin, Dalton returned his attention back to his computer. On top of his keyboard laid the envelopes he had been looking through. Suddenly his mood shifted, becoming dreary.

  No use in that. Not now, you have a client to prepare for.

  He picked up the envelopes and tossed them into his still open briefcase and snapped the lid shut.

  CHAPTER 3

  Aiden’s face was a blur in the rear view mirror as a heavy drum solo laid waste to the Camaro’s sound system. He bobbed his head lightly and sang along.

  “It’s never enough, no it’s never enough”, Aiden whispered, quieter than he would have done if he’d been on the road rather than the school parking lot. “I’ll never be what you want me to be. I’m do…”

  Aiden clamped his lips as a pack of students traversed past him on the sidewalk. It was a group of five, a large crowd for the early morning trek from the student parking lot to the long corridors of North West Cabarrus High School. Two broad-shouldered senior jocks with overly-decorated juniors attached at the hip led the pack with a fifth wheel tagging along. She looked like she could use another meal, or five.

  Football players and their cheerleaders. Classic, Aiden thought.

  Before he could start to belt out the next line, an older bronze-and-bondo Chevy truck whined into the space across the dividing lane. It was followed immediately by an early nineties Firebird complete with hood flares and faded dual grey stripes from hood to trunk. Aiden turned his attention back to his music as a slim boy with bright red hair and skinny jeans stepped out of the Firebird.

  “Where are you, Mason?” he asked, picking up his phone to check his messages and the time. 7:47am. “You’re pushing it, man.”

  Aiden looked up as two girls passed by. He smirked. It was his sister, Mara, and her ditsy dark-skinned friend, Chloe. Mara flipped him a middle digit with a grin, followed by a chuckle from Chloe, which Aiden was grateful he couldn’t hear over the music. It was an annoying noise, whiny.

  “You hoe,” Aiden laughed. She couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t care as he returned the gesture, jutting his middle finger up under the windshield. Mara raised an eyebrow and grinned before disappearing behind the line of cars.

  “All right, Mason,” Aiden said, picking up his phone again and tapping Mason’s name on the screen. The rhythmic ring of an outgoing call replaced the thump coming from the Camaro's speakers. After two rings, the line picked up.

  “What, man?” Mason’s gruff voice came on the line.

  “Where are you?” Aiden asked. “It’s ten till, and you’re not even here yet. You’re…we’re going to be late for first period.”

  “If you’re so worried, why don’t you go on,” Mason argued. “Or do you need me to hold your hand?”

  Aiden pursed his lips and shook his head, looking out at the field of cars. There were plenty of older vehicles with a peppering of gleaming new autos. “No, douche bag. You’re just not usually late.”

  “Oh, so you’re worried? Thanks, Mother,” Mason jeered lightly across the digital line. “Well, have no fear, I’m pulling in now.”

  Looking across the half-full lot, Aiden spotted Mason’s silver Mustang making the turn into the lot. He park about ten spaces away from Aiden on the same aisle by a white sedan.

  “Well hurry then,” Aiden said. “I’d like to not be late for class, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Mason fussed.

  Aiden switched off his Camaro and transferred the call to his phone as he got out of the car. Aiden’s best friend since third-grade, a thin teenager with dirty blond hair, exited the Mustang. He wore a size-too-small plain gray t-shirt that highlighted the boy’s athletic form. Mason saw Aiden about ten yards ahead and pocketed his phone.

  “Let’s go,” Aiden urged.

  Without a hurry in his step, Mason reached Aiden, who turned and made for the school at a fast walk. Reluctantly, Mason matched his pace and the two soon passed through the large maroon-painted metal doors into the school lobby. The large space echoed with quick footsteps and the chatter of hundreds of students as they crisscrossed the open space, trying to finish up last minute conversations before rushing to class.

  “You are going to Zed’s party tonight, right?” Mason asked. Aiden let a slight grin cross his lips as Mason's attention drifted. His brown eyes glued to the lowest point of the low-cut v-necks that passed as shirts on a group of girls passing by. One of them giggled as they passed.

  “Yes, I already told you I was,” Aiden grunted. “That’s why I’m coming by your house this evening, remember?”

  “Yeah, I just wanted to be sure you weren’t ditching me to go trick-or-treating tonight instead.”

  Aiden rolled his eyes. He angled around the corner and sidestepped to his right to avoid of a couple leaning against the wall, hands slithering over and under clothes.

  “I grew out of that last year,” Aiden joked. It had been at least three years since he had donned a costume for Halloween, but Mason caught the sarcasm.

  “Well, I hope not too much,” Mason said. “It is a costume party you know. And, of course you know that Faith will be there, too. Who knows how kinky she’ll be dressed.”

  Against his teenage pride, Aiden had agreed to dress up for tonight’s party at Zed’s. It had taken some convincing, not the least of which had been Faith Moreno would be there, in costume as well. He wouldn’t dare speak to the girl. He wanted to, but he wouldn’t. He couldn't. They had been friends since kindergarten, until it had become awkward a few years ago.

  “You are going to ask her to the party, right?” Mason asked.

  “Why do I have to ask her?” Aiden retorted, “She’s going already.”

  “That’s not the point, Aiden,” Mason sighed. “You should still ask her to go with you.”

  “But I thought you were my date,” Aiden cocked his head and pooched his lips at Mason.

  “Eff off,” Mason gasped and then snickered.

  Aiden chuckled loudly and punched Mason playfully on the shoulder.

  “See you in second period, man,” Aiden said before slipping into class.

  Lenore turned the hot water knob a few more degrees to warm up the sink water. She delved her hands back down into the water to pick up another dish, a glass cup from the morning’s breakfast.

  After the kids had shuffled out the door for school, she had taken her usual morning nap. An hour later, she woke from her slumber and began tending to the dishes. Then she would soon be in her office writing. It was a consistent routine that she attributed equally to being a mom for nearly two decades and her penchants as a former scientist.

  Lenore had studied astronomy back at UC Berkley before moving into an Associate Professor position at Embry-Riddle closer to her hometown in Pensacola. The years of precise, rigid research and experimentation had proven useful in developing a consistent routine. She no longer studied the stars much these days, but the discipline remained.

  Wiping the grease and small egg fragments from the last glass plate, Lenore placed it into the dishwasher and closed the door. She pulled the metal cork in the sink and let the soapy water spiral down into the pipes. As she pulled her hands from the water, Lenore noted her pruned fingers, transformed in the minutes of total emersion. She frowned.

  It won’t be long until they always look like that.

  At forty-three, Lenore’s skin was taut and smooth and she even managed to hold on to a natural tan. Combined with high cheekbones and, as her husband claimed on their second date over twenty years ago, “the most adorable nose among women,” Lenore was an attractive woman. Yet, the older she got, the more the litt
le changes bothered her.

  Her eyes drifted to the one-and-a-half carat diamond on her left hand. She spread her fingers and entertained one of her first memories of Dalton. She was still teaching at Embry-Riddle, but her passion for the written word had taken hold already. They were at an arts conference in Atlanta, Georgia. She was attending to promote her first novel, a sci-fi horror story that had largely been a flop. Dalton had attended as a representative for his former employer’s firm.

  The first words out of Dalton’s mouth had been, “I hate horror, but…” It ended there for a few moments while his mind caught up with his poor word choice. Lenore remembered the conflicting emotions she had fostered. She felt defensive. His comment was abrupt and she was selling a horror book. Yet, she found herself attracted to his otherwise desirable demeanor. Thick brown hair that was just enough neat and just enough messy. A rigid jawline and the most gorgeous sky blue eyes. Instead of talking again, he picked up a free bookmark and made his way off. Eventually Dalton got the nerve back up to approach her again on the last day of the conference and so their long-distance relationship had begun. The good days.

  Lenore broke her concentration from the diamond and wiped her hands dry on a nearby cloth before walking barefooted down the hall to her office. She took a seat behind a large mahogany desk at the edge of the room. She leaned back, trying to purge thoughts of earlier years from her mind and replace them with Keira’s lonely world in outer space. Keira was the leading lady of her most recent novel, a sequel to her bestselling young adult sci-fi novel.

  The astronomer in her had begged for years to be let out on the page while the horrific bloody tales of her previous five books had taken precedence. She had finally let it out and she could not figure out why she had waited so long. They had been the most successful of her books to date, selling well and above her expectations. There was even the occasional rumor of a possible movie deal coming down the chute. Her publisher had been eager to capitalize on the success and signed her on for a sequel.

  For the past two weeks, though, Lenore had struggled with the story’s climax. She had the perfect idea, but the words to explain it eluded her. Keira’s battle for survival was to hit a pinnacle, one that would define the future of humanity. After four rewrites and endless editing, Lenore felt it did not do the story justice. For the eleventh day in a row, she stared blankly at the same words on the computer screen, searching for the right words to fill the page.

  Bump, bump.

  Lenore jerked from her stupor and looked around the room. She waited a few seconds before dismissing the sound and returning her attention to the screen.

  “All right, come on, Keira, give me something,” Lenore talked to herself, attempting to prompt her imagination through her character.

  Bump.

  Again, Lenore’s eyes went up, scanning the ceiling.

  Bump. Bump.

  Her stare shot to the right, into the corner. It was coming from upstairs. She cocked her head sideways, waiting for the sound as she rose from her seat cautiously. It did not take long for it to come again.

  Bump. Bump.

  “Dalton?” she said more than yelled. She maneuvered about the desk and peeked around the door frame. The hall was empty so she stepped out but unconsciously kept close to the off-white wall. For a minute it seemed the noise had stopped, but it quickly picked up again. Her muscles tensed and her breathing became more deliberate as she tip-toed back down the hallway toward the kitchen. She stopped at the opening to the staircase and gradually peeked around the corner.

  A louder bang sounded down the stairs just before she could manage a glimpse. She swung back around, her back flat against the wall. Her breathing quickened along with her heartbeat. She swallowed hard. Quicker this time, she chanced a look around the corner. Nothing. Just the hardwood stairs leading up into the dark hallway.

  In the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the knife block as she flattened her back against the wall once more. Lenore glanced back at the opening to the staircase to her left once more. She shrugged and jogged into the kitchen, snagging the largest knife from the block. She gripped the handle tight, letting its presence send a few waves of courage up her arm and through her body.

  “Aiden?” she called out. “Mara? Dalton? If you’re here, you need to say something.”

  The noise came down the stairs again, reaching her more abruptly this time, or at least it seemed to at her heightened state. Her hand twitched as she raised the knife and took a step forward. No one answered her calls. She took another step, then another, and finally mounted the stairs.

  Why would either of her kids, or Dalton, be home? It was only ten in the morning. Both Aiden and Mara would be at school, stuck in some classroom, and Dalton should be about to meet his client. No, it wasn’t them. Still she called out again as she reached the top of the stairs and peered through the dark. She reached for the light switch and flipped the light on. The dark hall erupted in light. Empty.

  “Mara? Aiden?” she called out, her voice shaking. She took a deep breath to calm her shaking hand to no avail. “This isn’t funny.”

  Bump, bump.

  There it was again. It sounded like it was just down the hall on the left. Aiden’s room. The large knife gleamed in the hall light as Lenore raised it to chest level. Her feet perched ready with each step down the carpeted hallway. The noise came again, louder this time.

  “Aiden?” Her voice quivered, quieter than she had expected. Another thudding noise sounded ahead. It was coming from Aiden’s room.

  Lenore stole a glance back down the hall as she maneuvered up to Aiden’s bedroom door and placed her hand on the silver door knob. In futility, she attempted to calm her breathing.

  “Aiden, if you’re in there you need to say something now,” Lenore tried one last time.

  Half a minute passed and there was no reply. She took in a slow, careful breath. Then in one quick motion, she twisted the knob and pushed the door in. It swung wide. Her eyes darted fitfully about the room, hand ready to come down hard on whoever was in the room. She crinkled her brow. It was empty.

  Carefully, Lenore stepped into the room. Strategically she placed her bare feet on the hardwood floor, mindful of the junk littering the room. Ahead the closet door stood partially ajar, a three-inch black gap staring her down. She met its gaze and approached, pulling the blade closer to her shoulder.

  Reaching the closet, she braced her feet and extended her arm, but paused. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She steadied her hand holding the large knife. Like a viper on the attack, she reached forward and reeled the door back. Light flooded into the walk-in closet. She jumped forward, involuntarily yelling at…nothing.

  The closet was empty, just like the room. She shook and let out the breath she had been holding. Turning around, she exited the closet and took a seat on the only spot on Aiden’s bed uncluttered with clean clothes.

  “I must be losing it,” she told herself. She laid the knife on top of the clutter and cupped her face in the palm of her hands. "Well, I about killed Aiden's clothes."

  Meow.

  “Ah! Dammit,” Lenore yelled in fright, jumping off the bed and back to her feet. She reeled around at the grey short-haired fur ball that had decided to reveal himself from under the bed.

  “Smokey, you shouldn’t sneak up on me like that.”

  Unaffected by the admonishment, Smokey sauntered over to the desk where the mouse to Aiden’s computer hung from the edge of the desk. It swayed like the pendulum on one of those big old clocks. Lenore shook her head and watched the old cat. Reaching the mouse, Smokey pawed at it playfully. It swayed back more violently and abruptly slapped against the metal desk leg. The same thudding noise that had scared the hell out of her moments ago.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Lenore grinned at the cat. “It was all your fault. Did Aiden lock you in here this morning, Smokey?”

  As Lenore turned to walk out of the room, she remembered the knife she had brought
with her. It still laid on the bed. She went back and retrieved the knife and gave the cat a sideways glance as she walked back out of the room.

  “If you only knew how close you just came to being Chinese food.”

  “Who can tell me what the Articles of Confederation are?” Mr. Navarro asked the class, tapping the dry erase board with his favorite red marker. He had scribbled ARTICLES OF CONFEDERATION in all capital letters up high on the board.

  Mara rolled her eyes and withheld a sigh. The usual suspects popped their hands in the air, almost waving them in excitement. The same nerds that seemed to jump at every opportunity no matter the class subject.

  She was no fool, but obtaining the highest GPA at the end of her senior year was not on the forefront of her mind. No, Mara let her mind drift to better thoughts. Mr. Navarro’s full tanned lips, and everything below them. It was obvious that the history teacher worked out regularly, no wonder he was the constant talk of his female students.

  The fact that she would get to look at him for a solid forty-five minutes every day was the sole motivating factor for Mara to beg to be switched to his U.S. History I class. It was a far cry better than the elderly, bad-breathed Mr. Jacobs. Not all of it had been lies. Yet, her desire to learn about her history was without doubt a bald-faced, albeit advantageous, lie.

  One of the nerds finished rattling off a much too long explanation that must have pleased Mr. Navarro. Mara had blocked the words out, especially when he turned to write a list of points on the board.

  “Hey, Mara,” Lillian Lane whispered across the aisle from the yellow, plastic-topped desk to her left.

  Pulled from her trance, Mara discreetly turned her attention to her short friend from middle school. Lilly’s brown eyes and gently raised cheekbones complemented her naturally soft tanned skin. The blond highlights in her chestnut curls reached all the way down to her shoulders.